


Revisions

by irisbleufic



Category: Toy Soldiers (1991)
Genre: Boarding School, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-01
Updated: 2006-07-01
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:49:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It was never about looking cool, that was for sure.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revisions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written and posted to LJ in July of 2006.

It was never about looking cool, that was for sure. If anything, Joey had always considered himself the very _antithesis_ of cool. But when he allowed himself a moment of pride—which wasn't often, seeing as he had little to be proud of—he had to admit that he'd done a fair job of stripping away his parents' paint-job.

He was sure they hadn't _meant_ to make him look like a dork. Few parents ever meant it; parental naivety was a damned special breed of psychological disorder. Give the kid a nice, straightforward bowl-cut and stick him in a striped shirt that's slightly too big for him, because, hey, it's all the rage amongst 12 year-old boys. Look at his friends!

The only reason Joey had kept the shirt was because his mother had bought it for him. At this point, it more or less fit, and the bowl-cut catastrophe had only happened once.

Revision takes many forms: pens, pencils, markers, fabric paint. A bit of ice and a needle, and _bang_ , a little thorn in your father's side. And the hair, well, there was only so much he could do. It could behave however it fucking wanted. Maybe he'd grow it long in college, but for now, he was stuck with it falling in his eyes if he let it go.

He remembered the way Billy had brushed it back, terrified, before kissing him.

Aside from all that, well, he got his quirks in where he could: boxers with frogs on, socks with hand-drawn band logos, a few odd ear studs, that kind of shit. And shoes _weren't_ shoes unless they were Chucks, anyone could tell you that.

Billy liked to draw on them with a black Sharpie, just to make Joey squint.

No, it was never about looking cool, even _less_ about looking cool for all the times he'd had to wear a suit and tie to Mass or holiday services, or to funerals—too many of those for a young life, his mom's sister had said. Mostly his Mom's sister was okay, but she didn't talk to the family much. None of the funerals had been on that side except his mom's. Joey didn't care for suits, though he admitted to himself that subtle pinstripes rocked.

"Step away from the mirror," said Billy, "and get your ass back in bed."

At least he had nothing to worry about when he was naked.


End file.
